Echo: the First Son of the Amazons
by TheUnHolySmirk
Summary: "The First Son of the Amazons draws closer, / From ashes, he is found. To ashes, he may fall; / The Pride or the End of Themyscira." On Halloween Night, 1981, a small cottage on Godric's Hallow exploded. Defying all odds, a small child survived, and he was plucked from the smouldering ruins into the warm embrace of a Warrior. This is their story...
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

* * *

_"__The First Son of the Amazons draws closer,  
From ashes, he is found. To ashes, he may fall;  
The Pride or the End of Themyscira._

_"__Tread with caution, My Queen,  
Your Champion is coming,  
A Disciple of Hecate  
Marked with Death by Darkness  
A convergence of Fate and a catalyst of Nike._

_"__And he shall rise, a Warrior  
The Strongest amongst you,  
The Pride or the End of Themyscira"_

* * *

Queen Hippolyta of the Amazons knew how dangerous prophecies could be. Proactive moves for or against prophetic telling never leads to anything good and attempting to subvert a prophecy is as pointless as it is dangerous. Prophecies are told, and then the events occur, almost always in a way that only truly makes sense in hindsight. The Oracle of Delphi, and by extension Phoebus Apollo, was particularly frustrating to deal with in the best of times.

However, one part of the prophecy made her furious. One particular detail.

The subject of the Prophecy was _male_.

A _man_ was destined to be the "Strongest amongst" the Amazons?

No prophet would ever erase the countless crimes Men have committed in the past few millennia. Amazons were not born. Save for her daughter, Diana, not a single Amazonian warrior on Themyscira was born an Amazon. They were simply women, rescued or reborn, untouched by age or natural deterioration.

The idea of a _man_ being allowed to become an _Amazon _was laughable and insulting, nevertheless the "Pride" of her people.

It had to be a clever trick by one of the gods. Or even a test. The prophecy would not, _could not_, come true. There would _never_ be a "First Son of the Amazons"

* * *

GODRIC'S HALLOW  
October 31, 19:41 BST

THIRTY-SEVEN YEARS LATER

* * *

Diana of Themyscira, more commonly referred to as Wonder Woman, was flying over a quaint little town in the West Country of England. It was a beautifully simple sight, with a smattering of shops and a nice church composing a small village square. Plain cottages lined residential streets leading away from the town centre, and children were darting from house to house for sweets, dressed in adorable approximations of some of their favourite characters and creatures. Diana was quite flattered to see a young girl costumed in her own likeness, dragging a very bored Superman behind her.

The sight was so endearing, she decided to go greet her tiny fan. Just as she slowed her flight to land, a great explosion rocked the once peaceful scene. An inferno of unnatural origins seemed to light up the evening sky as panicking parents pulled their children away from the source of the blast, the shockwave rippling throughout the neighbourhood. Families on either side of the blast radius were rushing outside of their damaged homes, screaming for help and calling the authorities.

Diana, however, saw none of this, save for the first initial blast. Instead, at the first sign of disaster, she rushed off at her top speed towards the danger.

Landing with a crunch on shattered glass and rubble, the Amazon was assaulted by a harsh tingling feeling running down her spine, vibrating through her skull.

_Magic._ Lot's of it.

"Hello?!" She called out as loud as she could, silently praying that the inhabitants were alright, though she doubted it. "Please, if you are able, call out so that I may find you!"

Nothing.

Diana sent out a final prayer, before entering the house, which thankfully was mostly still standing. Trained eyes zeroed in on a figure slumped on the floor, completely still.

Oh, gods. Rushing over to the figure, which she now realised was a man, Diana knelt next to him, pressing her fingers against his neck.

No pulse. No visible cause of death, either. Her eyes shut in anguish, briefly mourning a man she had no hope of saving. After another quick prayer to bless his journey to the Afterlife, Diana moved on into the rest of the house.

The feeling of the arcane only seemed to thicken the further inside she trekked.

A single door was blasted open, the frame splintered as if someone had smashed through the lock. She ran through it to investigate.

It was a nursery. Or at least, it used to be, and the amount of leftover magic in the room was almost screaming at her. Whatever it was, the blast came from there.

A child's mobile lay broken and smoking on the still smouldering carpet, surrounded by half-melted or shredded toys. What must have been a cradle had been reduced to little more than burning kindling, and the walls were totally blacked by the heat. A black dress-like garment pooled on the floor, torn to shreds. Another body was lying strewn on the ground, the knees bent at an unnatural angle; this one a woman. Even before she checked her pulse, Diana knew that she had suffered the same fate as the man out in the hall.

_'__By the gods, what happened?'_ She lamented the fate of the expecting couple, clearly just entering their prime, for too young to be taken. She knew better than to move a body from what could be a crime scene. She was about to leave in sorrow, ready to aide anyone else on the street who needed her when she heard a faint noise.

A crying child.

_They weren't expecting_.

Sprinting back into the nursery, she searched frantically for the source of the sound.

_The cradle! There!_

Under a pile of charcoal that used to be his cot, covered in soot, was a small baby boy, crying out for his mother. His eyes were wide with terror, locked on the still form of the woman.

Diana's heart broke. Tenderly picking up the child, she tried to wipe away some of the ash that collected on his face, tracing the strangely specific cut on his forehead with her finger.

If she thought the _nursery_ was drenched with malicious magic…

That decided it. The child could _not_ be left there. The police weren't able to get the child the care he needed, and _Hera knew _those Auror-folk were barely any better.

Whatever was in his head _had_ to be removed, _immediately_.

Her mind was made up. Lifting a finger to her comm, she called the Watchtower. "Wonder Woman to Watchtower, come in."

The response was immediate, and Diana quickly recognised the voice of her Martian friend.

_"__This is Watchtower."_

"J'onn, please prep the nearest Zeta tube to account for a guest. I have a small child here whose parent's have just died, and I believe he has a piece of _very_ dark magic embedded into his forehead. It is imperative we remove it immediately. Please contact Zatara, let him know to meet me there."

A pause. Diana didn't doubt that J'onn was shocked at the prospect of bringing a toddler to a satellite base in orbit, but to his credit, he got over it very quickly.

_"__Of course. The closest tube is in Bristol, about fifty miles Northeast of your location."_

"Thank you J'onn. See you soon." The line clicked off. "Okay little one, let's get you some help," she whispered to the bundle in her arms. Luckily, she was _just_ able to make out a name stitched in gold onto the child's wrap.

_Harry_.

"Hello, Harry. My name is Diana. I promise that I can protect you. You're safe now." She kept muttering things of a similar view to attempt to calm the crying child. It seemed to be working because not long after, Harry's infantile fatigue caught up with him and his eyes drooped shut.

Diana did her absolute best to make sure not to jostle him too much and wake him up from his slumber. After checking to see that Harry was fully supported and unlikely to fall, she pushed off the ground and flew away from the panicking town.

The trip wasn't long. With her young passenger, Diana wasn't comfortable moving faster than an average car, but even then they reached Bristol within a minute and a half.

Finding the Zeta tube was similarly easy to do, and soon she was in a dingy alley standing before an unassuming brick wall. Reaching over to one of the bricks, she pressed down firmly until she heard a chirp of acknowledgement. It was a rather ingenious biometric scan hidden in plain sight, unlikely to be discovered by their enemies.

_"__Recognise… Wonder Woman: Zero Three… Guest: 'G' Zero Six."_

The machine hummed to life as the inner tube began to spin in its bearing. A golden glow suddenly enveloped the pair, and when it died down they were gone.

* * *

_"__Laever erutan fo cigam!"_

Oliver Queen was tired, confused and still not certain he wasn't already asleep, dreaming.

After a particularly trying encounter with Cupid, where she spent the majority of their fight listing the different ways she wished he would _take_ her and mark her as _his_, he really could have used a rest. Even while spitting her undying love for him, she could seriously pack a wallop. The heart-shaped arrowhead in his shoulder certainly didn't help any.

It was also rather annoying that he got so banged up protecting Brick, a crime lord with red skin and a gaudy sense of fashion.

So he could be forgiven for jumping to the conclusion that his brain must have given up and simply fallen asleep while he wasn't paying attention, especially considering the scene he barged in on while hoping to raid the medicine cabinet for bandages.

Instead of a nice empty room with a few identical beds and four sterile white walls, Oliver was greeted with what could only be described as a baby-worshiping cult. After all, five brightly costumed maniacs were all surrounding a floating toddler, one of which was chanting cryptically. A woman in a spangled swimsuit, a stage magician, a tall man cosplaying a rodent, a blue dude with his underwear on the outside and what can only be called an alien were all staring intently at a baby hovering between them

The baby was rather cute though, even if he didn't _look _like the second coming of an infantile Christ.

It took a good minute for Oliver's sleep-deprived brain to piece together that he _did_, in fact, recognise everyone in the room save the floating baby, and that the one chanting was particularly gifted with _magic_; the cultish chanting was most likely a spell of some kind.

Probably.

His shoulder chose that moment to flare up. Oh, right. He should take care of that. Doing his best to be as nonchalant as possible, he rifled through the cabinet for a disinfectant and a roll of gauze.

_"__You're looking for suturing needles, Ollie, you aren't at all curious about the floating-baby cult."_ He rummaged through a drawer by the sink.

_"__Tcejorp!"_

Damnit.

"Hey guys," he greeted warily, in case none of the five noticed his entrance. They did seem rather preoccupied.

"Hey, Ollie."

"Arrow."

"Hello, Oliver Queen."

Batman just grunted, and Zatara raised his hand without even turning.

He really shouldn't ask. "So, what's with the baby?"

"I found him," Wonder Woman explained simply. "I discovered that a dangerous bit of magic had latched onto his forehead, and now we are attempting to purge it from him."

Ah, okay.

Wait… _what?_

"Sorry, can you start from the beginning?"

So they told him.

"Huh." Oliver slumped back onto the mattress he was sitting on. "Are you having any luck?"

Zatara simply shook his head. "Not exactly. Kent Nelson was always much better with the stuff like this. This is old, _dangerous_ magic. _Soul_ _magic_. Frankly, I don't trust the odds of not damaging this child's mind by attempting to rip the magic out. It's just as likely to take _him_ with it if my theory is correct and it is a Soul Parasite of some sort. But one thing is for sure, we cannot leave it in him, _whatever_ it is. You were right to bring him here."

"_That_ isn't your call," growled Batman from under his cowl.

Good ole' Bats.

"What would you have had me do?" Diana asked incredulously. "With magic like that latched on to him, who knows what kind of disaster could have happened!"

"I highly doubt caution was your primary motivator for bringing the child _here_, Diana."

"What makes you think that, _Bruce_. Because I'm a woman?" She asked dangerously. Yikes, if Dinah gave him a warning as clear as that, he'd have thanked her for her consideration and done his best to never answer the question.

Batman wasn't fazed. "Because you're _emotional_," he corrected. "You wear your heart on your sleeve, and you get far too attached to every civilian you come across."

"There's _nothing_ _wrong_ with compassion!"

"There is if you allow it to cloud your judgement. You put the entire Justice League at risk."

"_From whom?!_" Diana demanded. "From the child?"

Oliver couldn't help but snort at the thought. A baby taking down the Batman? Please,

"Do you honestly think that people weren't going to be the slightest bit curious that _Wonder Woman_ of all people was flying around England cradling a child? You were moving significantly slower than normal, and thus it was a simple task for hundreds of civilians to snap a picture of you with the kid. _'WonderWoMOM' _is already trending on every social media platform.

"You attracted far too much attention to yourself, before entering a _secret_ entrance to a _secret_ headquarters. You could have been followed, and with your attention elsewhere there is a possibility that you would not have noticed."

"But that _did not_ _happen!_"

"So far as we know."

Oliver had to admit, he had a point.

"Look, Bats," Oliver interjected. "What's done is done, okay? Do whatever you have to to ensure our safety, but first, we need to inform the police."

"_Oliver_—" the Amazonian Royal looked appalled.

"_No_, he's right, Diana."

She glared but relented.

Martian Manhunter spoke for the first time since Oliver entered the room, his deeper base doing wonders to calm everyone down. "Allow me. I will also send an alert out to Mr. Nelson, and check if he is available." He turned slightly translucent, before sinking down through the floor.

Oliver took that as his cue to make a hasty exit.

* * *

It turned out, Kent _was_ able to remove what he called "a lower-powered spectre" from Harry. He claimed that whatever was within Harry wasn't quite a ghost, but "close enough for the same rituals to work."

"It's like the phantom is only a _fraction_ of its makeup. It desperately wants to rejoin the rest of it," he had explained while drawing a few concentric circles onto the ground."

Needless to say, it didn't take more than a simple exhumation to push the soul out, after which it promptly fled, presumably to rejoin its source material.

Diana knew she should be overjoyed that the child would be alright, but a _tiny_ part of her, just a small one, mind, was saddened at this development.

She had only met the child an hour ago, but already she knew she would miss him terribly.

"Hello, little one," she cooed to the bundle in her arms, large, bright-green eyes staring deep into her own. "We're going to take you to your new home."

Obviously, Harry wasn't one hundred percent sure what she was saying, but 'home' must have been a word he recognised.

Blinking innocently in the way only young children could, he reached out with a small first and gripped onto her outstretched finger and asked, "Mama?"

She felt her heart shatter. "No, child, your mother isn't here right now," she quietly explained, holding back unshed tears.

_'__Maybe Bruce was right,'_ she thought, wryly. She _could_ get a bit too attached, too quickly.

"Where?" His genuine confusion only tugged on her heartstrings more, almost to the point that Diana couldn't bear to explain.

"_Elysium_, child. The final resting place of Heroes."

"Eli-sum?"

"That's right." She gave him a watery smile.

"Dada?" Harry asked.

"He's with your Mama."

"In Eli-sum?"

"That's right. And they're so happy there. They're waiting for you to go join them when you're older and ready."

"I go now?"

"No my little warrior. Not until you're older."

_Much _older.

"They desperately want to see you, but they can't right now. Not for a long _time_." Her voice broke.

Her tears finally escaped her, slowly rolling down her face.

That seemed to set him off as well. Harry didn't entirely know why, but he knew that something was very, _very_ wrong with his world and that 'something' meant he could not see his parents again.

* * *

A walrus, a horse, and a pink blob all lit up on the Watchtower's holoscreens.

"His full name is Harry James Potter. He's fifteen months old. Next of kin are a small nuclear family of three, a couple and their son. The son is listed as the same age as Harry."

"So he has a family?" J'onn interjected.

"Correct. They live in Surrey, England, and the wife, Petunia Dursley, is the older sister of Harry's mother, Lily."

"So we know he most likely won't have to enter the system. That's good."

"No," Batman correct.

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

"The father, Vernon Dursley, has been charged with multiple counts of aggravated assault and battery, as well as contempt of court. When he was seventeen, he was accused of causing heavy bodily harm onto a fellow student at a boarding school he attended, via a long wooden cane issued to students as an accessory to their uniforms. The charges were suddenly dropped, citing that that accuser chose to rescind them. The accuser was then kicked out of the school due to 'poor grades and a lack of respect for authority.' That was only the first instance in a line of many similar stories. He always gets off, with little more than a small fine, and the accuser always vanishes into obscurity."

Diana's fists clenched white at the thought of such a _thing_ coming anywhere close to the child.

"What of his father's side?" J'onn asked. Batman nodded towards the screens, redirecting their attention towards what was now on display.

"On conventional government databases, his father doesn't exist, so I did some digging. It turns out Harry is a part of a hidden race of magic-capable beings, an entire facet of society that has branches in every populated continent yet somehow remains above scrutiny. They call themselves 'wizards and witches', and to most of the world, they don't exist."

While he spoke, various images flashed in around the three Leaguers, most comprised of random people dressed in ornate robes and floppy hats.

"From what I've been able to gather, there are multiple interconnected national powers dedicated to keeping it that way. These governments are largely independent of their non-magical counterparts, and Harry falls under the jurisdiction of the United Kingdom's magical government, also known as the Ministry for Magic."

"So same plan. We hand him over. What's the issue?"

"There are two."

Another screen flickered to life, featuring various medical files and shots of random drunkards performing random silly acts.

"The first problem is the high likelihood that these wizards seem to have some form of government-mandated memory wipe that they use on civilians to keep their existence a secret from the rest of the world."

J'onn's red eyes widened, while Diana audibly gasped.

"I wasn't aware any humans had the telepathic facilities necessary for altering memory," the Martian interjected, his unasked question evident.

"Scans indicate that they are indeed human. Every once in awhile a John Doe shows up in intensive care that the staff has no recollection of, but his DNA is still on file, and records indicate that someone was bought in via ambulance. These odd occurrences always seem to correlate with electronic dead zones, where cameras and similar hardware simply power down inexplicably.

"The patterns are always the same. A person wakes up in his hospital bed, speaking nonsense about magic and sorcery before frantically searching for sticks found on their person when they're brought in. Nine times out of ten they're recommended for a 'psych eval'."

He gestured at the random snapshots of inebriated tomfoolery.

"On the other side of the equation are cases like these. Multiple examples of people arrested for petty crimes, without any priors. Each one was caught and arrested in various embarrassing situations, but aren't necessarily harming anyone. Rather they simply seemed to be making a nuisance of themselves."

Diana nodded her head in agreement. It was relatively standard Public Inebriation. People who never really indulged themselves when they were younger, finally letting loose. Often they overdid it from lack of experience.

"All subjects tested negative for ethanol."

That stopped her short.

"Half are committed into mental facilities, reportedly unable to maintain short-term memory, often coupled with adverse reactions to seemingly innocuous things. Twigs, for example."

Oh gods, no.

"Five percent take their own life within two months."

Diana started to feel the rage of a warrior well up insider her. What gave them the right? How dare they meddle with the minds of the unable to defend themselves.

"This is organised, and it has been happening for decades."

Not anymore. Not if she had anything to say about it. She let out a breath to attempt to calm down. And they were about to give a _child _to these people?

J'onn interrupted her outrage. "You said there were _two_ reasons we can't simply approach the necessary authorities concerning the boy."

"I did," Bruce nodded, before turning back to the screen and tapping a few keys. He brought up what appeared to be a clipping from a very old-fashioned newspaper. The picture was a bit too grainy to make out the small text of the actual articles, but they all had no trouble reading the large block letters adorning the top of the page.

**_"__HARRY POTTER'S SACRIFICE BRINGS ABOUT THE END OF THE DARK LORD!"_**

"According to them, Harry died with his parents."

* * *

END OF CHAPTER ONE

Bit of a side note. I've done quite a bit of research on Ilvermorny, the MaCUSA, the Dragot, the Spink, Scourers, Rappaport's Law and similarly relevant concepts, but even then I'm subject to miss something. There isn't that much to work with when it comes to logistics, but history is very well established.

I personally wish to know if Ilvermorny's Hogwarts influence goes as far as to adopt its class style and have things like OWLs and NEWTS to reflect British A-Levels, or if it follows a more, year by year credits based American system. I also would love to know how houses work, whether or not each house had points, which classes they take, etc.. It is also established that Hogwarts has free tuition, and only school supplies must be purchased by the parents. Does Ilvermorny function in a similar manner? It's the least elitist and most democratic of the schools, reportedly. But what does that mean?

But unfortunately, none of that information is available. How dare they!? As a fanfiction writer, I'm honestly shocked and offended. Feel my outrage Joanne, feel it!

With lack of information, I've made a ton of stuff up.

This is a crossover, but you knew that. I know sons of Amazons do exist, kinda, but in my research, I wasn't actually able to fully figure out their story, so I left them out. I kinda thought they were made up by the gods…

Also, I'm still undecided if Jason is going to make an appearance yet. And I would still hesitate to call him an Amazon. Demigod, sure, but not an Amazon.

Plus there is no indication they exist in Young Justice, and if they got rid of Speed Force I think I'm good on this aspect.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Un-betaed. I've been sitting on this for a while now and realised that I really just need to bite the bullet and post. Sorry for the wait.

CHAPTER TWO

They all took a bit to let that sink in.

It was Diana who first broke the silence. "I wish to take him with me to Themyscira."

"You can't be serious," Bruce growled.

"_Very_."

"Diana, listen to yourself."

"No, I _am_ listening! For the first time, I'm listening to what my heart keeps telling me! I knew the second I laid eyes on him. The second _he _laid eyes on _me_. You were lucky, Bruce."

His eyes widened under the cowl. "I was _lucky_?"

She knew it was manipulative, she knew it wasn't called for, but she also knew she didn't have a choice. "You had Alfred. You had eight years with your parents and a stable shelter when they were taken. And you have the resources necessary to continue living in their absence. One of the biggest culture shocks I received when entering Man's World for the first time was how you treat your orphans, pushed into an underpaid system, shuffling from house to house and forgotten about by the general public."

Both Bruce and J'onn were shocked-still. One of the first unwritten rules of the League: _don't _bring up Bruce's parents. But Diana didn't care anymore.

Her stance was set. There would be no changing her mind. "Harry has no one. No money, no protection, nothing. Even his government was quick to abandon him! He should have been declared _missing_, not _dead!_"

She was grasping at straws now, and they all knew it. She couldn't care less.

"I don't need your permission, Bruce."

They glared at each other, both refusing to stand down. It was a battle of wills, a standoff between Man and Amazon.

Man backed down.

"_Fine_," he snapped, his voice hinting at his darker persona.

Diana smiled, gratefully, before reaching out to grab Bruce's hand.

"Thank you, Bruce, sincerely."

The Bat just grunted, turning back towards the screens and effectively ignoring her.

LB

_"__Recognise… Wonder Woman: Zero Three… Guest: 'G' Zero Six."_

"Diana!"

Said princess looked up from the bundle in her arms to see a woman with black hair and skin a shade darker than her own sprinting towards her, looking as if she had every intention of tackling her.

"Troia, stop!" Diana shouted, hoping the panic in her voice was enough for her childhood sparring partner to realise she was completely serious.

It was, thank Hera, although Diana could see the beginnings of hurt to spread across Troia's features, so she made sure to clarify. "It's not that I'm not glad to see you, I am, it's simply that you were about to crush your nephew." She nodded down at Harry, who, thankfully, hadn't been shaken from his nap.

The hurt was replaced with confusion, then realisation, shock, until finally…

"NEPHEW?!"

Diana just smiled, nodding her head. "Nephew."

"But… how… _when?!_" Troia yelled.

"I found him, all alone, his parents had just been killed."

"And so you just _took_ a child from his home?" Her eyes were very wide.

"He had a magical ailment. Should the police have taken him before I could, he could have perished!" Granted it turned out that Harry _hadn't_ been in any immediate danger, but Diana didn't know that at the time, and so she neglected to mention it in her retelling. It seemed to calm her sister Amazon a tad.

"So you brought him _here_ to be cured?"

"No, I had my friend Kent Nelson cure him," she corrected.

Troia looked confused. "Then what is it doing here?" she asked, her eyebrows scrunching together, trying to imagine any reason why the child has to be brought to Themyscira, no doubt, and therefore unable to see Diana's narrowed eyes at hearing Troia's chosen pronoun.

"_He_ is to be my son. I've adopted him. I've brought him here to raise him, train him up as my child. He will be formally declared as Harry, Child of Themyscira."

Troia's eyes narrowed as well. "You are referring to the processes to formally declare new _Daughters_ of Themyscira?"

"Well such a name hardly seems appropriate now, doesn't it?" Diana bit out, hardly believing the prejudice her long-time friend seemed to be displaying.

Said friend's expression softened considerably, slightly shame-faced. "I'm sorry Diana, but you must have noticed the Queen's recent rulings about men. How would she react to your, ah, guest?"

"I would _hope_ she'd be _overjoyed _to meet my _son_, her first grandchild," Diana responded, emphasising Harry's title. There would be _no_ mistaking his status, not if she could help it.

"Of course, I apologise, I am simply unused to—"

"It's alright, Troia. Just keep it in mind. Now I believe we must be announced before the Queen?"

The Diplomatic greeter jumped, having completely forgotten her role in the hassle of seeing her. She shook herself out of her panic before straightening her posture and adopting a much more professional stance. "This way, Diana."

Diana never considered Themyscira to be particularly breathtaking as a girl. She grew up around the classic architecture and careful attention to eye-pleasing layout and had figured Man's world was similarly built. Oh, how wrong she was. Man's World seemed tossed together at the best of times and was covered in many years' worth of patchwork; held together by dull cement and sheer stubbornness.

The graceful arches and pillars that adorned her home were a welcome sight to her tired eyes, but even her nostalgic enthusiasm could have been mistaken for indifference when paired against Harry's pure _wonder_.

"Whuzzat?" His adorably small, stubby finger was pointed at the market square's ornate fountain.

"It's a fountain, little one," Diana cooed, leaning down to whisper in the toddler's crumpled ear. "It's pretty, and people drop money inside as an offering to the gods."

"Cods?" Diana chuckled, hoping Olympus could forgive the accidental slight of comparing immortal deities to fish.

"_Gods_, child. _Guh_. Say it with me: _guh-_ods. _Gods._"

"_G-gods!_"

"Gods! That's right!"

LB

Unbeknownst to Diana, her little byplay with young Harry did wonders to ease Troia into the idea of her new nephew. Her slightly bemused smile at the pair went completely unnoticed, so engrossed the fierce warrior seemed to be in her young charge. The princess would be a wonderful mother, and the child would be taught the ways of the Amazons.

In step slightly ahead of the pair, as was the custom, Troia simply enjoyed the child's curiosity, listening to his giggles of delight whenever an answer he received seemed alien to his simplistic world.

Realising that Diana and Harry could use the time to bond a bit more, she decided to take the scenic route to the Queen's Assembly. If that meant she got to listen to the heart-warming exchange for an extra ten minutes, well, what did that matter?

All too soon (in Troia's opinion), the trio arrived at the main dais. She stepped forward and announced, in as official a voice she could muster, "My Queen, may I present to you your daughter, Diana, who has returned from Man's World, and who has a pressing announcement for your throne." Before stepping back to yield the floor to the princess. Diana stepped forward, but not before carefully handing Harry, bundled and hidden, over to Troia.

"My Queen." She bowed her head in greeting. Troia could tell from her posture that she was nervous, even if her voice never betrayed such. "May I speak freely?"

Hippolyta raised an eyebrow, and even Troia realised that Diana's formal words were rather out of character for her. It must have been very important to her to do this properly.

Hippolyta's curiosity must have won out over her skepticism, because after a minute of deliberation she nodded, cautiously. "Granted."

Diana took a deep breath. "I would like to invoke the rituals to welcome a new child into Themyscira. I would like to present a new Amazon."

Silence.

And then the first whispers broke out.

_"_New_ Amazon?"_

_"—__hasn't been one since…"_

_"__The _Princess_ has lain with a _man_? How dare she hold herself with pride? As if she remains one of us?"_

At this last remark, Troia glared at the crowd. They knew nothing, yet presumed everything. How masculine of them.

"_Quiet!_" Hippolyta commanded, her voice striking a chord within them all. "Let her speak. Daughter?"

"I would like to introduce my son, Harry."

Pandemonium broke out.

Soft conversations became louder and louder as each warrior woman yearned to be heard over each other. Reactions ranged from intrigued to furious, and soon a sea of armed soldiers was openly shouting into the market square, logic and reason long since lost in the tide. Troia was ashamed to see her sister Amazons openly calling for the slaughter of the child and the banishment of Diana. They were created by the gods to preserve peace, and _this_ was their reaction to a baby boy? Hatred and Bloodlust?

Of course, to add insult to injury, Harry chose that moment to make his presence known. His face was scrunched up, and Troia knew things could take a very difficult turn.

"Nononononono! Little one, please!"

But Harry either didn't hear or didn't listen, because he screwed up his chubby little face into the shape of a pickled potato and proceeded to wail.

Troia discovered that day that nothing, _nothing_, cut through the sea of arguing women better than the cry of a child.

As quickly as the roar rose it vanished, and slowly three dozen heads turned towards a frantic Troia, hopelessly trying to shush a bundle held in her arms.

…

A lone Amazon with bright gold hair and a silver quiver strapped to her back broke the silence first.

"Quick! The child is _there!_ Grab it and—"

"And _what_, Myra?" Diana asked pleasantly, her hand dropping to the sword sheathed at her hip, her eyes chips of ice. Myra shrunk in on herself, her ears burning red, but she looked indignant. "Go on. What were you about to suggest?"

It seemed either Myra was very brave or very stupid because in the face of Diana's fury she chose to continue with her train of thought. "That _man_ does not belong here. I suggest we grab it and toss it off Themyscira. Allow the gods to decide its fate."

Troia scoffed. "He's hardly a man yet, you cretin. He is a child, barely leaving infancy! Do you expect to attack him? Do you expect to fight him? Have you no honour?!"

Now it was Myra's turn to scoff. "He isn't worth honour. He is _male_. He is not, and never will be, an Amazon. You were foolish to bring him here, Diana." Her knuckles were white, clutching the wooden shaft of her weapon. "We should kill him here before he can be allowed to infect this island with the ways of Men."

"_How dare—_" Diana unsheathed her sword, stepping towards the blonde before she was interrupted by her mother.

"Stop," Hippolyta commanded. She stood, allowing her full height to signify her strength and chain of order. Her face was set in stone as she stepped down from the dais towards her daughter, jealously guarding Troia, and therefore Harry. Troia could see millions of emotions flitting through the Queen's countenance, each appearing for such brief intervals as to make it impossible for her to pick out any individual one.

"Diana…" she intoned. "Are you sure?"

The Princess nodded jerkily, her hand never lifting off of the pommel of her blade.

Hippolyta sighed, before her shoulders relaxed and her face softened. "Give me the child."

Troia's grip tightened instinctively. "My Queen…"

"_Now_, Troia." She stiffened again. The brunette shot Diana an apologetic look, pleading with her to understand, before slowly relinquishing her hold on the child.

"Please, Queen Hippolyta…"

"It's alright, sister," Diana assured softly, and Troia stared at her like she'd grown a third head.

"But she—"

"_Peace_."

Troia stood down.

Hippolyta simply stared down at the face of the boy in her arms, her expression unreadable. She reached forward and ran her fingers through a full head dark hair, revealing a thin white scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. It was dead quiet. Even the ambient creatures seemed to hold their collective breath.

"This is not the time, nor the place, for such a significant event. He shall be declared at dusk before we feast to celebrate and show our gratitude to the gods. Not only has my daughter returned to us on the heels of Victory, but she came escorting her heir. Begin the preparations! We are adjourned for today."

Queen Hippolyta handed the swaddled boy to Diana, before turning her back to her.

She gestured towards the indignant blonde. "Myra, _to me_." Said woman stood shock-still, shrinking in on herself before she shuffled her feet as she walked over to the stern monarch. Troia couldn't bring herself to care for her anguish.

LB

Hippolyta's rapt eyes bore into the bundle clutched in her daughter's arms, Diana's attention thankfully directed elsewhere as _yet another_ of her subjects wished to fawn over the child.

The _so-called_ "Pride or End of Themyscira".

The Wonder Woman was the Pride of Themyscira; whoever may hold the mantle at the time. _She_ was the chosen champion of Olympus. This _boy _could only spell apocalypse.

"My Queen?" A meek voice interrupted her grim thoughts.

Hippolyta looked up into the scared eyes of her subject, doing her best to refrain from scoffing at her cowardice. Was she not an Amazon?

The Oracle's words whispered in her ear. _"He shall rise… The Strongest amongst you."_

Could the prophecy be making her people _weaker_, rather than gifting such a child his strength? Would Apollo damn her people to such a fate? Surely he would not be _allowed_ to do such a thing…

"Myra, you are correct. We _cannot_ allow a _man_ to be counted amongst us. For millennia I have led the Amazons well, leading my subjects as if they were my own daughters. I can do this because they are _daughters_, Myra. Diana is young. She does not truly understand the ways of Men, and therefore allows her sense of Justice to blind her to what she has brought to our island."

Hippolyta's eyes bore into Myra's intently, her voice barely above a whisper. "It would be a shame if that child never _makes it_ to tonight's festivities, don't you think? Diana would be devastated, of course, but she's only just met the boy. Should such a tragedy occur, I'm sure she will get over it and move on."

Myra's deep blue eyes widened dramatically. "My Queen…" Her gaze sharpened as she nodded in understanding and resolve. "It would be quite a sorrowful turn of events."

"Indeed." Hippolyta hardened her heart to her daughter's stowaway. "Arrange a guard that you _trust_ to _watch_ _over_ the child while Diana has her proper attire prepared for the ceremony."

The blonde bowed deeply. "Of course, My Queen," she intoned, before stepping away from the dais, presumably to carry out her orders. Finally, alone, the monarch allowed herself to sit back down, during herself a goblet of wine and slouching in her throne. If her mother could see her now, she would be appalled at the complete lack of decorum she was displaying. Hippolyta chuckled, sipping from her chalice. Oddly enough, she couldn't bring herself to care.

The sun showed ever so brightly above the horizon, the temperature noticeably rising a few degrees. Hippolyta scoffed at the pitiful attempt at retaliation. The Sun God couldn't touch her. Not while she ruled by her goddess' decree.

"That _man-spawn _will not have the chance to be called '_Son_'," she spat into the open air, the venom on her tongue palpable. "I win, _Archer_. The Amazons do not bow to the likes of you or your prophecies."

LB

Diana felt very on edge.

By all accounts, she had no reason to. She was home — in her own bedroom, no less — lounging in scented bathwater plenty big enough for three others to comfortably sit. Everything about her setting was hand-picked to relax her, yet something was _off_.

And whatever it was, it was making her nervous.

As the sun set, a single spotlight (remarkably radiant for the last wane of dusk) spilled through the open window and lit up an old toy of hers. It was a straw warrior, armoured in plates of stitched leather and glass brackets. What had she called it? Oh right, Echo. After the nymph, spurned and wronged at the behest of a selfish man. She could barely remember; it had been so long ago. She had probably been barely older than—

_Harry!_

Since she pulled him from the rubble (had that truly been only yesterday?), Diana hadn't been apart from Harry for more than a minute. No wonder she was feeling anxious. She handed him off hours ago!

Finishing up her bath, Diana climbed out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. Making sure to avoid dripping everywhere, she stepped over to the doll and, after wiping her hand on her towel, picked it up.

It was rather lumpy. Frayed at the seams. One button-eye was slightly tugged loose, giving the face a very lopsided expression. Years of wear were very visible on the toy, and each scuff painted a picture of a warrior who faced dreadful hardship to endure so long.

It was perfect.

After dressing in her formal attire and giving herself a once-over in the mirror, Diana stepped out of her room, the toy tucked into her belt.

It was time she saw her son.

LB

Thousands of miles from the small island, leaning against the barrister of his balcony, an obsidian man smirked, his golden eyes pulsing with power. His flesh was taught, shiny, and smooth, with slicked-back hair pressed firmly against his skull, hints of violet flickering in the light. Stark white teeth gleamed, flashing even brighter against the unnatural shade of his skin.

He let out a throaty chuckle, raising his glass with a mocking tilt.

"Your move, _Your Majesty._"

LB

END OF CHAPTER TWO


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